My Slice of Reality,

It is impossible to go through life without trust: That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.Graham Greene

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Take time to deliberate, but when the time for action has arrived, stop thinking and go in.Napoleon Bonaparte

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There’s one great thing about the internet - idiots. They spring out of the weeds in the darkest corners and, for some strange reason, think they can remain anonymous in their idiocy. Well, frankly people…ya can’t. Today we had a little drive by “egging” if you will by someone who thought of himself as witty, intelligent, and unidentifiable. Well, that would be true if it weren’t for a few factors which we won’t go into. Anyways, hello idiot:

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I think after six years I’ve finally realized the folly of drinking Coke in the morning as my caffeinated beverage. Since I can’t stand most coffees and the way they taste (except for the really good one Sheetz sells that tastes like Vanilla!) and I do like tea I think that’s how I’m going to lean. So the question is – what is a good tea to drink?

I have a really good tea for night times that’s caffeine free and very relaxing however that won’t serve the purpose I want. Any recommendations from our astute readers?

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The lightning bolt hit Caviezel and the film’s assistant director Jan Michelini while they were filming in a remote location a few hours from Rome.

It was the second time Michelini had been hit by lightning during the shoot.

Ya know to someone working on a religious movie that hits upon some very deep ground with Christians, wouldn’t the act of being struck twice by a lightning bolt kinda make you think that maybe the guy upstairs isn’t too keen about you making this movie?

Granted, neither times was anyone really hurt. Minor burns and shocks but still…its lightning! You just don’t mess with that stuff. If he gets struck again I’m gonna email this guy personally and ask him to play the lottery - or else tell my fortune. I read about this about 7 a.m. and I couldn’t stop laughing.

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From the eleventh floor of University Crossings I stare out into a city encased in white. I know the looks I get when I state that, especially from Sam. When someone says “encased in white” a blanket of snow is the first thing to come to mind but no, Philadelphia is not encased in snow - it’s encased in light.

Light from the thousands of separate sources throughout the city reflect off the falling downpour and make it truly appear to be a sea of white and grays. It’s oddly beautiful, inherently depressing. The city just seems to fade away - fifteen blocks beyond my vision is just a gray and white wall. I feel like I’m stuck in a video game, Max Payne or something similar, even down to the muffled, distorted ambient sound effects.

Eleven stories up there is a beautiful breeze. It gusts and drifts, whistling and howling in and out of the crevices of the building. Sometimes it’s impossible to sleep here due to the wind, given a voice of its own by God or something else. One could easily imagine why our ancestors thought the wind held voices and was angry, it sounds like it.

From here, everything’s small and in the chaos of the movement below it still feels like there is a pattern. It feels like we’re all being tugged on a string by something “out there.” Again, that feeling of darkness and beauty is there, just beyond my finger tips. Out beyond my window, glittering with rain drops, the city is alive. Within the howling wind are the combined voices of two million people. Hidden within the clouds of rain and fog is a pulsing life, never truly sleeping. Its gorgeous, its breath taking, it’s alive. Welcome home, Philadelphia. Welcome home.

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